When Marells name, with firend & PriceShall all forgotten beand or dear law midist nations shawProud prospersous and freeAmongst the florous Martyrs rollWhove won immortal fameno one shall there more proudly shinethan Sean MacDermotts Name

He is not dead whose spirit livesTo proudly point the wayTo nerve our hearts for noble deedsTo carry on the prayTill like to Saxon Lordes of oldMidist shot and shell and steelThe foe that blights our native landBefore our Colours shall reel

When ongoing slaves and souless menWould gain have sold our landagainst their miles and treaterous workyou made a gallaut standyou made then writhe beneath your lashthe weakling and the sneakAnd crowned the work you thus begunWith that glorous Easter Week.

Tis ard to think that tongue is stilledThat once spoke with Such fireWhich roused the men of north & southand filled John Bull with inkBut here today before our Godive swear on bended kneeThat we never shall forsake the causeuntil our Lande is Free

This is no time to weep or wailThis is no time to cryFor the law that bore such men as heCan never never dieAnd God will bless the men who dieTheir native Land to saveAnd their sould will shine for evermorein that home beyond the grave